Christian fiction; Wingfold, Thomas (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
The visits of Wingfold to the little people at the gate not only became
frequent, but more and more interesting to him, and as his office
occasioned few demands on his attention, Polwarth had plenty of time to
give to one who sought instruction in those things which were his very
passion. He had never yet had any pupil but his niece, and to find
another, and one whose soul was so eager after that of which he had such
long-gathered store to dispense, was a keen, pure, and solemn delight.
It was that for which he had so often prayed--an outlet for the living
waters of his spirit into dry and thirsty lands. He had not much faculty
for writing, although now and then he would relieve his heart in verse;
and if he had a somewhat remarkable gift of discourse, to attempt public
utterance would have been but a vain exposure of his person to vulgar
mockery. In Wingfold he had found a man docile and obedient, both
thirsting after, and recognizant of the truth, and if he might but aid
him in unsealing the well of truth in his own soul, the healing waters
might from him flow far and near. Not as the little Zacchæus who pieced
his own shortness with the length of the sycamore tree, so to rise
above his taller brethren and see Jesus, little Polwarth would lift
tall Wingfold on his shoulders, first to see, and then cry aloud to his
brethren who was at hand.
For two or three Sundays, the curate, largely assisted by his friend,
fed his flock with his gleanings from other men’s harvests, and already,
though it had not yet come to his knowledge, one consequence was,
that complaints, running together, made a pool of discontent, and
a semi-public meeting had been held, wherein was discussed, and not
finally negatived, the propriety of communicating with the rector on
the subject. Some however held that, as the incumbent paid so little
attention to his flock, it would be better to appeal to the bishop, and
acquaint him with the destitution of that portion of his oversight. But
things presently took a new turn, at first surprising, soon alarming to
some, and at length, to not a few, appalling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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